Ice & Shadow
by Hallowed Aegis
Summary: Emma's return from the past has unexpected consequences, releasing foes new and old upon the town of Storybrooke. A chilly visitor seeks a way back to the Enchanted Forest, and will do anything to secure passage... even if it means press-ganging a certain reformed pirate into service. Captain Swan focus, with Outlaw Queen and Snowing on the periphery. Rated M for a reason!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So, this started with a one shot lemon, and instead I got the story of the ship in the background! I will (probably) post the original under a separate heading. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT!

* * *

_**Ice & Shadow**_

**Chapter One**

_Who would've thought the pirate was an appropriate babysitter?_ Emma Swan thought as she leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold before her. It was not the first time Emma had been stunned to walk in and see her son and Killian Jones bent over the table, heads together as they considered their latest addition to their plans. Seeing them like that, talking in soft, serious, tones, made something in her chest twist, a sensation so strong it was almost overpowering.

Henry was beaming up at Jones, gesturing at what looked like a set of detailed plans. The boy had found a confidant in the reformed pirate; indeed, since the birth of baby Neal and the return of Marian throwing life into a flap, Killian Jones had turned in to the preferred babysitter in their little circle. Her eyes lingered on the pirate. _Dashing rapscallion_, she could almost hear him correcting in a whisper. Emma had to agree. He had pointblank refused to give up his clothing from the Enchanted Forest, reasoning that, as everyone in Storybrooke had their memories back, there was little point in him being anything but comfortable. She wasn't exactly complaining; Emma had no objection to his collection of vests, and she was a definite fan of the way his leather pants hugged his assets.

It should have been odd, seeing him sitting in the middle of their warehouse apartment. And yet he seemed to fit, here amongst the exposed cinder block and high ceilings.

"Well done lad," Jones was saying. "Once we've made up the rigging, we'll be able to build her up, right as rain!"

"Can't we do this using the mast trick? It would save a lot of time," Henry asked, eyeing the drawings on the table.

"Aye, we could, but then she wouldn't be complete. Whole. She'd be a false ship, she would," Jones replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought.

Emma shifted against the frame, trying to get some feeling back in her now numb shoulder. That small movement was enough to alert them both to her presence, their heads snapping around instantly, the pirate shifting ever so slightly in front of the boy. Caution and short nerves were a legacy no citizen of Storybrooke could forsake.

"Ah. Your Lady Mother has returned," Killian murmured, his posture relaxing as he stood to meet her gaze. His eyes feasted on her, drinking in every detail of her form and person. His mouth was all humor, the eyes all lust. Emma sent the pirate a quelling glare, only causing him to smirk as he stalked around the furniture to reach her, pausing just a hairsbreadth from ear before whispering, "Welcome home, Swan."

On the couch, Henry rolled his eyes. While a fan of the pirate, he was well aware that Killian Jones considered it his duty to fluster his mother on a daily basis. Henry didn't mind seeing his mother out of sorts; not everyone was able to throw Emma Swan for a loop. It was the displays of affection that Jones deemed essential to his tactics that Henry didn't want to witness.

"Mom, I'm going to the library," he said, nearly leaping from his chair in his haste to quickly vacate the premises. Pointing at the bottle and sketches, he asked the pirate, "Can I take these?"

Killian smiled indulgently. "Aye." He made no mention of being cautious; he knew the boy would treat their project gently. True enough, Henry handled them with a feather-light touch, easing them into his backpack before holding the bag in both arms.

"What are you going to the library for?" Emma asked, trying to focus. Killian was running the metal of his hook along the nape of her neck, a sharp, cold sensation as he toyed with a lock of hair.

"Research," Henry replied as he tied his shoes. Emma nodded, feeling the hook lightly trace its way down her spine.

"Make sure you're home by six," she forced herself to say, eyes staring intently at her son's left ear. "We're having dinner at David and Mary Margaret's." Henry nodded as he checked the bag one last time before zipping it shut.

At last he was ready. Pausing with his palm on the doorknob, he added, in the tone of a long-suffering preteen, "And Mom, _please_ don't do anything to embarrass me in town." With that, he went, leaving Emma stunned and Killian chuckling darkly against her ear.

* * *

The door had barely closed before Jones had spun her about and lifted her hand to his mouth, turning it over to lay a kiss on her wrist.

"Well Swan, you heard the boy," he whispered into her skin, cutting his eyes at her. Emma felt a shiver trickle down her spine, and found herself being slowly backed towards the kitchen counter.

"He just said not to embarrass-" She began hotly, only to have Killian cut her short, pinning her to the wall.

"-in _town_, love," the pirate breathed, nuzzling the curve of her neck. "What I have in mind is most definitely not a public outing," he murmured, his hook sliding into the valley between her breasts to pull her shirt down, sighing appreciatively at the sight of her simple black bra before bending down to taste the skin just below her collarbone. Emma held her breath as he worked his way lower and lower, until the tip of his hook rested just below the fabric of her bra. Looking up at her, he grinned wickedly. "Savvy?"

Killian watched as her green eyes spat sparks, and then darkened. A moment later her hands were in his hair, kissing him with an intensity that set him alight. He angled his mouth to slash across her jaw, groaning as she bit his lower lip. He shoved her against the wall and lifted her against him, a raspy chuckle escaping as she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist. He moved his hook arm to support her weight, his other hand toying with the fastenings of their clothing.

"What's so funny, Jones," she growled, pulling his head away to get a better look at him. Even looking deliciously tumbled, Emma Swan managed to look down at him coolly. Her hair was in complete disarray, and her lips were swollen, but her eyes held him, searching. Looking for a lie.

_Gods all help me, but I love a tough woman,_ Killian thought to himself, thanking his lucky star for the umpteenth time that day. He suppressed a moan when she squeezed him between her legs, prompting a response.

"I was just thinking about our current alignment, and my predilection for new challenges," he ground out, rolling his hips suggestively.

Emma looked at his dancing blue eyes, and bit back her smile. "I am not some challenge for you to win, pirate," she whispered into his ear, taking the lobe between her teeth and biting softly.

Killian thrust against her sharply and she jerked, her head almost snapping back into the wall before his hand caught it, digging into her blonde waves.

"You, Swan, are challenge personified," he hissed into her mouth. He swallowed her gasp as his clever fingers undid the final barrier between them, and they were lost, sinking to the kitchen floor in a tangle of limbs.

* * *

Thanks for the read! Reviews are fuel :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the support! I have posted the precursor to this story; it can be found under "Straight on Till Morning". Please bear in mind, it is M for a reason!

With that shameless plug out of the way, onward!

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT!

* * *

_**Ice & Shadow**_

**Chapter Two**

Henry opened the door to the library slowly, looking about before shutting it behind him quietly. Though long one of his favorite places in town, he hadn't been back since Belle had married Mr. Gold.

_Rumpelstiltskin – my grandfather_, he forced himself to remember. It was still odd to realize that the Dark One, the machiavellian force of nature from the Enchanted Forest, was family. He wasn't sure he was at all comfortable with it, actually.

As if summoned by the thought, Mr. Gold appeared behind the circulation desk, wheeling a cart of books out for shelving.

Henry froze, and they both stood there, looking at each other awkwardly. They were saved from any further embarrassment when Belle swept in, giving Henry a quick, warm hug.

"Henry! Welcome! Haven't seen you in a while," she said brightly, giving his shoulder a squeeze before moving to the desk.

"Yeah! It's been a bit, um, busy," Henry said, startled from his reverie.

"Just give me a moment, dear, I have take care of a few things. Pull up a chair and then I'll be right with you," Belle said conspiratorially.

Henry nodded, and turned back to Gold, again unsure of what to say.

* * *

Behind the desk, Gold was a mirror of his grandson, and quite at a loss for words. He had been scheming for days, trying to think of how best to orchestrate a chance meeting with the boy. And yet, when presented with the opportunity, he was unable to act. _Coward_, the nasty little voice in his mind whispered.

Gold flinched when Belle nudged him none to gently in the ribs as she wrote down a call number with studied indifference.

"So… have you been well? Are you and your mom getting settled?" the man asked, watching his grandson for some flash of his son.

"We're doing fine, yeah," Henry said, kicking his feet against the seat. "She got that place down by the beach, in the converted warehouse. Hook's over by the wharves, and we go fishing sometimes."

"And school? You're a bright boy, to hear your teachers tell it," Gold asked quickly, desperate to keep the stumbling conversation alive. _Bright like my Bae, _he thought.

"School's okay. It's nice to be back. And I'm pulling an A in math now," the boy replied, smiling a little.

"Good for you!" Belle said, patting his hand, the last of her work finished. "Your mum tells me you're quite the reader. Anything you need, you let me know. We've got a whole mess of things here, and being as how you're family, I can give you the inside track," she said with a wink.

Henry perked up at that. "Really? That's great! Do you have anything on pirate ships?"

"Pirate ships?" Gold asked, startled. Belle, however, didn't miss a beat.

"Nonfiction or fiction?" she asked, voice crisp as she watched Henry's face intently.

"Nonfiction," he replied, leaning closer. Gold watched, stunned, as Belle proceeded to take over the conversation. He blinked, heart squeezing painfully.

"We've got two I can think of off the top of my head. What do you need them for?" she asked, curious.

"It's not for me, really. You see," he paused, messing with something in his rucksack before gingerly placing the impossible bottle and its plans on the desk. "I'm making a ship in this bottle. Well, Hook is making it, technically, I'm just helping. But I wanted to make it special, you know, _real_."

Belle broke out into a grin, eyes dancing over the plans. "It looks lovely. And I've got just the thing for you, no book required. You've missed something very important."

Henry blinked at her, surprised. "What did I miss?"

Belle laughed. "You need a bell, dear. No ship has a soul without her bell," the librarian said, kindly. "Here." She plucked a charm from her bracelet and handed it to him.

"Thank you!" Henry exclaimed. Belle tapped her lips, and the boy grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he whispered, looking around the stacks guiltily.

"I'll go get you those books now. And I'm sure we've got something on the art of miniatures. Just give me a tick, dear."

Gold turned to his grandson, smiling. Over Henry's shoulder, unnoticed by the boy, Belle made several emphatic shooing gestures toward Gold, a plain hint to get on with the business of bonding with his grandson.

"It looks like a fine vessel," Gold began, words awkward on his tongue.

"Thanks. I just wish I could make it something special. I know he misses his ship. His real ship, I mean." Henry said wistfully, index finger running along the painstakingly draw blueprints.

Tentatively, Gold placed his hand on the boy's shoulder for a moment. "I'm sure building this with you goes a way toward easing that burden," he said softly.

"Thanks," Henry said again. He didn't shy away from the touch.

Gold heard Belle rustling in the stacks, the sounds drawing nearer. In a second, he made a decision. Bending down, he murmured, "How special do you want it to be?"

Henry blinked, and then, looking around, leaned in. "I'm listening," he said, as only a twelve year old could.

"Well, I've got a little magic, a small thing, truly. A weather spell of sorts."

"How does it work?" Henry asked, eyes alight.

"You put water from the home port in the bottle to mimic the weather in the ship's immediate vicinity. A nice little trick, really. You don't even need to have the model in the bottle for it to be a useful spell, but it gives it a nice touch." Seeing the boy hesitate, he said quickly, "It'll not harm the ship, I promise you. It has only the seeming, not the substance of weather. Just don't tell your mothers," Gold said. Noticing Henry's deadpan look, he added, "At least not right away."

"So, you interested?" he asked, gesturing at the bottle. Henry thought a moment, and then nodded, grinning broadly.

"Then watch close, laddie," Gold said, winking. "This is where it gets interesting." With a flourish, the older man gestured to the bottle. Henry flinched back as the bottle began to glow a soft blue, the light building until the glass blazed with light. And then, suddenly, it faded, as if a switch had been thrown.

Gold motioned to the bottle, and Henry reached for it, cautiously tapping the glass. When nothing happened, he looked in askance at his grandfather.

Gold wagged his finger, lips quirked in an impish smile. "Remember: just add water!"

* * *

A moment later Belle was there, dropping the books on the circulation desk with a heavy thud.

"There you go Henry," she said, satisfaction oozing from her voice. "That ought to set you right on the nature of pirate vessels."

"Thanks a lot Belle," Henry said eagerly, swooping the books into his bag in one motion. "Well, I'll see you later!"

"Right. Good bye, Henry," Gold said hastily. Seemingly, the desire to quickly leave the scene of mischief was hereditary.

"Just a moment there, you two." Belle's voice was all steel, and Gold winced; he was both terrified and elated to realize the authority that being Mrs. Gold had given his new bride.

"All magic – and favors – come with a price," she said, lowering her voice into a tone of deadly seriousness. Henry flinched, and then squared his shoulders.

"And what's the price?" the boy asked gamely.

Belle put a hand on both their shoulders. "Dinner on us at Granny's on Thursday next. Seven o'clock. Don't be late." Belle said firmly.

Gold closed his eyes, counting his blessings. Dimly, he heard Henry agree and leave the library. She had seen his heart, warped and ruined as it was. He had already lost his Bae. Without her, he would have been adrift.

* * *

He came to at the feel of Belle's hand sliding over his, giving it a good squeeze.

"That was well done, Rumple," she murmured, giving his cheek a kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered, throat tight.

She smiled warmly, and then indicated an extremely large, extremely dusty pile of books.

"Back to work. Those won't shelve themselves," she said abruptly. Hiding a smile, Gold complied.

* * *

I will admit it, half of this chapter is just because I love Belle/ Rumpel.

So there it is! Remember, reviews are fuel! Keeps the muse happy and all that :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Welcome back everyone! I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Thanks again for your continued support.

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT!

* * *

_**Ice & Shadow**_

**Chapter Three**

Killian watched as Emma paced up and down the living room of her parent's loft. She was a flurry of movement, a blur of golden hair and red leather. Under normal circumstances, he had no objections to Emma Swan being riled up. He found it rather sexy, especially when he was the one doing the riling. At the moment, however, she was working herself into a barely contained panic attack. From his position of sous chef, David tracked his daughter's movements, his attention wavering between the tomatoes and his first born wearing a rut in the hardwoods.

"Easy, lass. It's just dinner. She's not about to throw fireballs at you over the caprese," Killian said soothingly.

"Right," Emma snorted. "That's more of a _digestif_ activity for Regina."

"Emma, relax. I'm sure it'll be a perfectly civil evening," Mary Margaret called, gesturing with her knife. In the corner, Neal made a loud noise of assent as he rocked in his car seat, tasting his feet in lieu of his mother's cooking.

"Besides, Henry's here. It's not like she'd do anything to him at risk," David pointed out.

Emma sat beside Killian heavily, running a hand through her hair anxiously.

"I know, I know! It's just… things were starting to work, and then I brought Marian back, and now…" she trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Killian took her hand in his, drawing small circles on her wrist. "What's done is done, lass. No sense worrying about it now. It's been a few weeks; the wound won't be as raw as it was. Relax, love," he murmured.

Hearing a knock on the door, everyone froze. Killian could nearly see the tension rolling off his Swan. When Henry walked through the door, carting two massive volumes, she slumped, visibly, if only temporarily, relieved.

Casting a glance about for her parents to determine the coast was clear, he leaned over to murmur in her ear, "You know love, I'm sure I know a whole host of ways to help you release that tension. It's such a _long_ to-do-list, after all..."

Emma shot him a glare over her shoulder. He smiled innocently, eyes bright. "If not before, then after," he continued, his hand now inching along her thigh.

Emma narrowed her eyes, and before she could speak, he tugged her into a rough, one-armed hug, kissing her forehead in the process.

"Alright love, alright. No more jokes. Just silent and supportive, that's the ticket." He felt her ease into the embrace, her arms circling his waist loosely. He tipped her chin up towards his and gave her a soft kiss.

"And _then_ after," he murmured impishly. Emma hit him on the shoulder, but she was fighting back a smile now.

Looking over her blond crown, he saw David frowning at them balefully. Killian sent him his most winning smile, kissing Emma one last time before meandering over to the kitchen.

"Mary Margaret, can I help you with anything?" he asked gallantly, completely ignoring David's looming, ominous presence over his shoulder.

Mary Margaret nodded, relief in her eyes. "Could you hold Neal while I get the roast out? He's just so _fussy_ today."

Jones blinked, and before he could protest, found the infant royal balanced precariously in the crook of his arm, reaching for the shiny object of mystery that was his hook. Killian danced about, trying to support the infant's head, keep the hook safely out of reach, and keep the child entertained. Henry, setting the table, was capable of little more than laughing. Seeing Swan's barely concealed smile, Killian swallowed his complaints and proceeded to dandle the baby about the kitchen, a happy distraction for them all.

Emma, preoccupied with Jones' antics, didn't notice their final dinner guest had arrived.

"Well. So nice to see everyone's having a pleasant evening," Regina said coldly, setting her purse on the couch.

Killian saw Emma's shoulders tense, and cursed. "Bugger it all to bloody hell!" he muttered. Neal blinked, and then wailed. "I know mate, of all the shit times-"

Making his way to greet their guest, David smacked him sharply on the back of the head.

"Not around the baby," he growled before turning to the mayor to embrace her. "Regina! Welcome!"

* * *

"How's R- Things? How're things? Mary Margaret asked when they finally sat down for dinner, determinedly light.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Enough with the kid gloves already. You've been dancing around it since I arrived. David, how's Robin?" she asked bluntly, buttering her dinner roll.

Mary Margaret choked on her drink while David stared, speechless. Regina raised an eyebrow coolly, and Killian took a swig from his flask. _Well this'll be good,_ he thought.

"He's ah, he's, um…" David struggled, and then found his voice. "He's okay. He's doing well as the new Forester. The camp's set up, and they've been mapping the trails this week."

"And the family?" Regina prompted, sipping her wine.

"The family is… adjusting," David said doggedly. "Still trying to figure out the lay of the land, so to speak." Jones felt Emma's hand grip his under the table, slowly squeezing the blood from his limb.

"And Roland is well?" she asked with studied carelessness. David and Mary Margaret exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

"Roland is happy to have his mother back, of course," Mary Margaret said carefully. "He's still a bit… thrown, I guess, by recent… changes to his routine."

"Gah! Easy lass, I've only got the one hand!" Killian burst out, trying to shake some feeling back into his fingers.

"Do you have something to add, Ms. Swan?" Regina asked, her voice turning the name into something disgusting.

"Roland wants to see you," Emma said, looking directly at Regina. "He doesn't understand why you haven't been by to see him, and Marian refuses to allow him see you."

Killian watched with interest as Regina's façade cracked, her eyes becoming especially bright as she busied herself with her purse for a moment.

When she looked up, her face was composed, though her voice shook slightly. "It's always hard for children to accept change," she said, her tone neutral.

"You know, Killian babysits for Roland every Wednesday, while Robin's at work. Marian's been busy helping him set up base camp," Emma said slowly. Mary Margaret's eyes widened in warning, but Emma ignored them. "Next Wednesday is your day to have Henry. If you have a meeting…" her voice trailed off.

Regina nodded, busying herself with her napkin. "I do, actually. Thank you, Ms. Swan, that solution will fit quite nicely with my schedule," she said coldly. Only the attention to her silverware gave away how much that information meant to her.

* * *

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, with Regina and Henry leaving just after dessert. Killian wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body as they cleaned the dishes.

"Do you think that was wise, love? You don't want to get caught in the middle." Emma sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm in the middle already. Besides, she would've found out on Wednesday anyway. At least this way, she's forewarned."

"Aye," Killian murmured, considering. "It would've been a nasty shock otherwise, I imagine."

Emma nodded sadly. They stood in silence for a moment, until Emma turned back to the dishes.

"You know," she began conversationally, "once we get these dishes finished?" Jones blinked, nonplussed. A smirk played around his Swan's mouth as she leaned up to whisper in his ear, "It'll be after."

Killian began scrubbing dishes with a will, causing Mary Margaret to squawk at his cavalier treatment of her best cutlery.

* * *

Regina leaned against her bedroom door, breathing heavily. She blinked furiously, holding the tears at bay. She could hear Henry in the bathroom, brushing his teeth hurriedly. Tonight's dinner had drained her more than she cared to admit. So many conflicting emotions warred within her. Relief, at their continued acceptance of her; pain, at the truths they had shared; gratitude, for their honesty; anger, at Emma's fucking up her life yet again. And yet, classically, it had been Emma that had been honest with her, that had offered her a chance to see Roland again. A soft sound at the door snapped her out of her musings. Henry tiptoed in, a strange expression on his face.

"Good night Mom. Love you," he said, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek before heading to bed.

_What is it about children, that they know what their parents need?_ She wondered as he quietly shut her door.

She waited a few more moments, listening for the usual nighttime sounds of her son crawling into bed before she opened her purse. She withdrew a small flask, and proceeded to empty its red contents down her sink, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the wine. It had only required a simple vanishing spell, hardly a complicated magic, but it had its limits. She could only vanish the drink elsewhere, not out of existence. There was nothing else for it, really. She wasn't about to drink in her condition. Grimly, she looked at her reflection. Only up close could you see the weariness, the worry she worked so hard to conceal. Satisfied, she nodded to herself. She could do this, alone if necessary. A muffled snore drifted under the door, and a smile flickered across her face. _Well, almost alone,_ she amended.

* * *

Well, there it is! Let me know your thoughts! Reviews keep the muse firing on all cylinders :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone, thanks for reading! Also, be warned: there is a touch of M action toward the end. I've almost wrapped up _Straight on Till Morning_, so expect more of that (M content) in the future. Thanks again!

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT

* * *

_**Ice & Shadow**_

**Chapter Four**

"Steady now, mate," Killian said, sweat beading his upper lip. His partner nodded, the young face set in determination. This was the final step. One wrong move, and all their hard work would be destroyed.

Delicately, Henry grasped his tools, slowly setting the final piece into place. The audience held their breath, as the tiny bell gently attached to its hook, and sighed in relief. As if in answer, the miniature bell peeled inside the bottle, a soft, delicate sound that seemed to reverberate against the glass.

"Congratulations," Emma said, leaning down to kiss the two men in her life on the cheek.

"Thank you love," Killian said, rolling his neck. "It's all down to your lad Henry, here. He's a natural." Henry grinned, his thin chest puffing out at such praise.

Across the room from his position as official baby burper, David called, "What's her name?"

Killian stood, eyes glowing as they met Emma's. "The _Cygnus_," he said, voice slightly hoarse.

"Mom, you're blushing," Henry said unnecessarily. Mary Margaret chuckled as Emma went, if possible, an even more spectacular shade of scarlet. Killian cocked an eyebrow as he bent over her hand, laying a kiss on the fluttering pulse in her wrist.

David coughed loudly. "Well I think this calls for a celebration! Dinner at Granny's?" The suggestion was met an approving chorus.

Henry paused, staring at the bottle. Glancing up at Hook, he asked, "Can I take this? I'll be right back."

"Sure lad," Killian said, eyes still fixed on Emma. Filching a cup from the kitchen, Henry ducked out of the room, heading for the pier.

* * *

"You'd never know it's almost spring," Henry grumbled, treading carefully on the slick pavement. Though March was fast winding down, they had been hit by a series of snowstorms, every one of them feeding off the ocean to return days later to hammer the town. While the snow days had been appreciated at first, it made walking through Storybrooke a dicey affair.

Finally he reached the docks. Clambering down the steps, he lowered his cup, wincing at the icy water. Carefully, the boy trickled the sea into the bottle, taking care not to disturb the ship. He repeated the process three more times, until the brackish water lapped against the model. Then he waited.

At first nothing seemed to happen, the water soaking in to the wood of the hull. Henry sighed, disappointed. And then, he saw it; a faint powder falling from the top of the bottle. The water began to surge, until Henry could no longer see through the base of the bottle. Instead, he was looking at the ocean. The _Cygnus_ rocked gently on the waves, its mast now limed with frost and sea spray. The lines of glue seemed to disappear as the ship slowly changed, the tiny beams taking on a high lacquered gloss, gradually shifting into a true miniature of a galley.

"It worked! It worked!" he crowed, doing a little celebratory dance. "You're real now," he said, awe heavy in his voice as he examined the ship from every angle.

"Operation Weather Channel Live, complete!" he shouted to the sky, elated.

* * *

When Henry arrived, his entire family was in the diner, sitting around their usual booths. As was typical, Killian was flirting outrageously with Emma while Mary Margaret and David watched, plainly bemused. He felt something in his chest twist at the sight of Regina with them; it was the first time she had sat with them at Granny's since Marian's return.

"Henry! Come on, kid, where've you been?" Emma called, escaping the pirate's loose embrace to drag her son over to the table.

"I had to fix something," he muttered, looking at his family. Smiling at Hook, he placed the bottle on the table gingerly, a strange and wondrous centerpiece.

"Here," he said shyly.

Killian watched intently, seeing the sails of the ship snap in the breeze. _Cygnus_ road the wavelets easily, somehow appearing more lifelike for the addition of the water. Snow fell gently on the deck, only to be blown away, out to some unseen sea.

"Thank you lad," he murmured, ruffling the boy's hair. "She looks like she's ready to set sail."

Regina's eyes narrowed as she waved a hand over the bottle, a line growing between her brows. "Henry, this is a lovely gesture," she said carefully, "but where exactly did you get this spell?"

Henry cringed, and looked over his shoulder guiltily. "Well, I was trying to find out some more information about pirate ships at the library, and I ran into Rumpel- Mr. Gold, and-"

As one, both of his mothers wheeled around, stalking toward Gold's table, deaf to his explanations.

* * *

Emma watched as Regina slammed her hands on the table, eyes hard. She was none to pleased herself, but Regina had a way of getting things accomplished with Gold.

"All right you little imp, what did you get out of my son in exchange?" the mayor growled.

"I have no idea to what you are referring," Gold said, sighing. Under the table, Belle kicked his shin.

Regina smiled cruelly. "Really. Let me refresh your memory. A weather spell, keyed to the location of the ship."

"Ah. That spell. Why so suspicious, Regina? It was a small magic; you know the spell yourself. It's hardly dangerous," Gold scoffed, and winced, Belle's kicking growing more insistent.

"I want to know what this magic cost him," Regina snapped, hackles rising.

"Dinner with us at Granny's on Thursday," Belle said firmly, standing to place herself squarely between Regina and Gold. "A public, supervised dinner. No tricks, no traps, just a chance for the boy to spend time with his grandfather."

Emma put her hand on Regina's shoulder. "We can work with that," she murmured. Regina sent her a scathing glance, and then rounded on Gold again.

"Next time, don't be so shifty about it. If you want to take him to dinner, just ask!" she said stiffly before whirling back to their table.

Gold looked at Emma and asked tiredly, "So is it your turn now?"

Emma shrugged. "I think she got our point across. I actually think it's a reasonable idea. I just wish you would've asked us." She paused to look over at Henry, who was being grilled by Regina as she downed her wine, and added acerbically, "And that he had told us."

* * *

Across the room, Marian's eyes narrowed. She could feel the tension in her husband's body, recognized the studied indifference on his face as that… _woman_ walked behind them, positively fizzing with anger from her conflict with Gold. Casually, Marian rested her chin on her hand, watching out of the corner of her eye. Then she froze, eyes wide. She had not missed the small gesture, nor the sudden vanishing of the wine before it touched the Evil Queen's lips as she interrogated her boy. Shakily, Marian forced herself to reassess the Queen's appearance. She was impeccably dressed as always, not a hair out of place. But there, just barely visible, she could see dark circles under the woman's eyes. She carried herself differently, too, Marian noticed; more cautiously, as if she bore some delicate treasure that warranted great care. Marian stared at her plate, emotions roiling in her belly. She had seen that look plenty of times before. Beside her, Robin smiled at her as he sipped his beer before turning his attention back to the meal. She felt the dread start to well up inside her, threatening to claw its way out and make itself known. She smiled back, a tight, mute response, and carried on eating, her eyes never leaving the Evil Queen.

She waited until Robin was talking to David, going over the new plans for the trails. "Excuse me," she murmured, "I need to speak with Tinkerbelle."

She sat down in the woman's booth, not bothering to be subtle in announcing her presence. The woman jerked, spilling ketchup down her green shirt.

"Oh, damn it all to hell," the petite blond groused, dabbing at the red splotch. "That's sure to stain…" she paused, and, seeing Marian waiting patiently, forced a smile into her voice.

"Can I help you?" Her eyes trailed over the flannel shirt and dark jeans, wondering what this woman needed, so many weeks after her arrival.

Marian looked over her shoulder, checking to see that they wouldn't be overheard.

"I hear you are a fairy," she said softly, eyes still darting about the diner.

Tink snorted, and went back to her french fries. "Yes. Well, you heard right," she said, rolling her eyes just slightly.

"Please," Marian hissed, leaning forward. "I need to know if my husband is my True Love," she begged, clinging to her hand.

The blond woman nearly choked, pounding her chest for a moment to clear the airway. "Wait, what?" she gasped, eyes slightly teary from her brush with asphyxiation.

"My husband…" Marian gestured helplessly, eyes terrified. Tink saw the movement, and felt a terrible, sinking feeling.

"Ah," she said, toying with a curl as she thought. "And you want to know because…?"

Marian's eyes narrowed fiercely, and she squeezed the fairy's hand until her knuckles were bloodless. "I have to make sure she didn't steal his heart."

Tink studied the woman, but didn't say anything. It wasn't the whole truth; a lifetime of Pan and Neverland had made her fairly good at recognizing when she was being lied to. Regina simply wasn't in the business of ripping out hearts anymore. But she doubted that would comfort this woman.

"You realize that it may not be," she said cautiously. "Very few people ever find their True Love. And even if he's not, that doesn't make your love any less important, any less real," she said firmly.

"Please," Marian pleaded, "I have to know."

Tink sighed, and flicked her fingers. Marian watched as the spell, invisible to the others, alighted on Robin. She smiled, and waited for the warm glow when it found her… but there was nothing. Only the soft glow from Regina. Dimly, she was aware of others in the diner, shining with the same light. But all Marian could see through the tears was Robin… lighting up the spell for someone else.

Tink watched Marian go white, and felt a surge of compassion. "I did warn you."

"But –" she said, aghast. "She must have… stolen his heart! It cannot be!" she murmured, voice climbing octave after octave as the panic overwhelmed her.

Tinkerbelle grabbed her hands and squeezed the tightly, trying to anchor this strange woman to reality.

"No. But remember, it doesn't have to mean anything," she hissed. "It doesn't change-"

Marian broke away, a strangled sob caught in her throat as she stumbled toward the door, looking sick to her stomach. Robin reached out to her as she passed, concern on his face.

"Marian? What's wrong, darling? Marian!" But she didn't pause, and instead began to sprint down the streets, her heart shattering in her chest as a ragged sob worked its way through her entire body.

* * *

Killian ran his hand along her neck, just grazing the spot he knew she loved.

"Come on love," he whispered into her ear. "The lad got the point. He's not about to try it again."

"It's not the magic I'm mad about," she hissed, eyes still pinned on her son. Henry's shoulders were hunched, even across the room, plainly still feeling the frustration from both his mothers as he sought sanctuary at the counter. "It's that he didn't tell us about it!"

Killian chuckled, and kissed her neck. "Right. Because you were always so open," he teased.

"I'm honest," she said curtly, determined not to be swayed by his soft touches.

"That you are, love," he replied, laughing softly. Emma jabbed him in the ribs.

"How can you be so calm about this?" she demanded.

Killian took her hand and kissed it. "He doesn't need it." Seeing her deadpan look, he began tracing the veins in her arm, his touch feather light. "By my reckoning, right now the lad has a King, two Queens, a werewolf, and a Savior peeved at him. And he's going home with the one that runs this town. I don't think he needs to add a pirate into the mix."

Emma jolted, and then sighed, rubbing her temples. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am," he murmured. "But don't lose all that fire on my account love. Emma Swan as the protective mother is _very_ sexy," he purred.

She scoffed, but without any anger. Every now and then, she was struck by how strange it was, having this man as her partner. Sometimes, it was surreal, especially during moments like these, when they discussed how best to make decisions regarding Henry. She wasn't sure when it had occurred, but at some point they had stopped talking about those choices as individuals and started talking about them as a unit. At times it was almost unsettling, but just now, feeling his frame pressed tightly against hers, she was grateful.

He paused a moment before asking, "Would you come home with me tonight, love?"

Emma sighed, easing her body into the space beneath his arm. "Yes," she murmured. She felt his lips light on her temple before lifting her chin. His blue eyes searched hers before nodding.

"Good," he said, kissing her firmly.

* * *

They were scarcely through the door when Killian had his hand buried in her hair, Emma's hands flying to undo the laces of his leather breeches. Their mouths were locked as they made their way down the hall to the bedroom, bumping into the wall repeatedly as they awkwardly fumbled with their clothes. When they came up for air, she was gasping, her knuckles white against the black leather of his coat. Her partner was in little better shape, his lips red and swollen, though he did manage to raise an eyebrow as he grinned, panting a little.

Killian shrugged the satchel onto his dresser, the bottle just peeking out the bag. He turned to Emma, once again fully absorbed in the task of disrobing his Swan.

Emma ran her hands over his chest, pushing his shirt wide. Gently, he returned the favor, slowly undoing the buttons of her shirt before kneeling in front of her to tackle her jeans. He tugged them down, pausing to place a soft kiss against her now covered clit. He smiled at her sudden intake of breath, and began to prod her with his tongue. He could already taste her through the cotton.

He sighed as she ran a hand through his hair, enjoying the pleasant sting as she scoured her nails against his scalp while be continued his ministrations through the fabric. Only when he could feel her shaking, struggling to stay upright, did he stop. He stood, and swept her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly before gently placing her on the bed.

He struggled with his laces, only to have her touch still his efforts. Emma gently undid his trousers, pulling them to his knees. When he made to kick them away, she cupped him, her touch soft. Killian groaned as her fingers danced along his cock, her other hand wound tightly around his neck. He gloried in her touch, growling as he felt her nails bite into the skin of his back. She ground her hips against him, and he thrust back in response. He buried his hand in her hair, lips hot against her skin.

"I'm going to make love to you tonight, Emma," he rasped, kissing her neck. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else, love. And you are going to _bloody well enjoy it_."

Emma pulled his head back, running a finger along his lips before kissing him languidly, a slow, loving caress that made him ache to his bones.

"Good," she murmured.

* * *

Their bodies fell into the timeless rhythm of love, pleasure, and release, movements at once tender and ardent. After they were spent, they collapsed, hands and lips exchanging touches meant to soothe rather than inflame. Unbeknownst to them, a small ice flow made its way passed the ship in the bottle, the tiny figure of a woman in blue clearly discernible against the black of the bottled night.

* * *

Phew! Lots going on in this chapter. I debated splitting it up, but it just didn't feel right. Let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated :) Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone that's made it this far. Finally, we get to the plot! This is a much shorter chapter than normal, but it should help set things up down the line :)

* * *

**Ice & Shadow**

_**Chapter Five - Interlude**_

The woman examined her palace as her little ice patch brought her closer. It had taken her weeks to build. What had started as a simple ice flow off a small spit of land was now a great berg, floating majestically just beyond the sight of the coast. It towered above the waves, a masterpiece of fractals and crystalline engineering. It was a formidable fortress, nigh unbreachable. She would be well defended here. She glanced up, and her blue eyes narrowed. Above, wispy clouds flitted through the air. "Well that won't do," she muttered.

Lightly, she stepped off the ice, nodding in satisfaction as it sank beneath the waves, its purpose fulfilled. Before her, steps formed, carrying her higher and higher up the glacial escarpment. The wind was just starting to howl about her when a wave of her hand cut through the thick layer of ice, allowing her into her gallery.

Light glittered off every surface, fracturing into a thousand different hues without name. Sighing, she ran a hand through her platinum hair, happy to be back at last. Her little visit had been informative, if dangerous. Settling into her throne, the woman pondered her situation.

Her fortress was complete, an unbreakable wall of ice protecting her from the outside world. But it was also stationary. A line formed between her brows as she contemplated this necessary evil. She had been able to avoid detection thus far, the townsfolk so immersed in their petty squabbles they hadn't noticed winter tightening, rather than relinquishing, its grasp on their little town. She still needed a way back to her kingdom. From what information she had gathered on her few trips into town, the magic beans had been mostly destroyed the season before, with only a handful of beans surviving. And those were all underground by now, planted in the fall to build strength through the winter. The beans wouldn't be due for harvest until late summer at best.

_I can't wait that long_, she thought, feeling the panic well up inside her. _Anna needs me!_ A few weeks, to build up her defenses and ascertain her whereabouts, she could sacrifice. She knew Anna was still alive, had seen it in her mirror, and that her kingdom was awaiting her return. Two seasons, however, was more than she could stomach. She had already been captive for who knew how long. It was time to go home.

"Well, fortune favors the bold," she murmured, a smile playing on her lips.

She flicked a wrist at the great doors that led to her balcony, enjoying the blast of cold sea air. Far, far above, she could see the clouds, birthed by her will, marching toward the little town of Storybrooke.

"Now," Elsa said, leaning forward on her icy throne, "I just need a ship to return me to my kingdom… and a captain suitable for the journey."

She waved her hand in a lazy spiral. Slowly, as though coaxed by the motion, a great pane of ice rose from the floor, its surface frosted over. A simple twitch of her fingers, and the frost dissipated. A man, dark and handsome, sat in a strangely crafted seat, laughing with a green eyed blond. She could see the glint of a metal appendage on his left arm.

"Well well well... Captain Hook," she murmured, tapping her lips thoughtfully. "Yes... you'll do quite nicely."

"And for a way in…" she said, voice trailing off. She watched as the glass frosted again before clearly to reveal a dark haired woman stumbling behind a dumpster, sobbing inconsolably as she hid in an alleyway, crouched behind a dumpster. On the road, a handsome man ran passed, shouting.

"Perfect," she murmured. "A broken heart, so easily led astray..."

Her mouth curved into a cold, cold smile. Yes. This would do quite nicely.

* * *

Ta-daaaa! Let me know what you think; reviews definitely help shape where the story goes!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Hello again! Sorry for the delay; I was on vacation, and beach time/ bike rides trumped my daily writing :) Be warned; this chapter is pretty much just smut. Initially it was going to be tied more to a plotty type chapter, but then Killian was being all seductive and... well, if Emma can't resist, how the hell am I supposed to?! Enjoy!

**EDIT**: Sorry to those of you who caught the first edition. My internal spell check/ grammar police apparently didn't make it back from vacation until yesterday... _

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT

* * *

_**Ice & Shadow**_

**Chapter Six**

Emma tugged her jacket tighter, hurriedly making her way to the houseboat. Dark clouds, riding low from their burden of snow, marched in from the sound. The storm promised to be nasty, and she for one didn't fancy being caught in the open when it hit.

She had just rounded the corner when she bumped into Marian. The woman, normally so friendly, shot Emma an ugly look before hustling her son down the street. Shivering, Swan put it out of her mind as she walked down the pier, nearly barreling down the door in her haste to get out of the wind.

Regina sat at the small table, coolly sipping a glass of wine Killian had handed her. Emma could hear Henry rustling through the spare room; though he never stayed the night with Emma and the Captain, he had gladly taken over the second bedroom as his own space.

"Nice of you to join us, Ms. Swan," Regina said evenly, dark eyes taking in every detail of Emma's half-frozen, wind burned appearance. The mayor seemed oddly relaxed, as if some great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Suddenly, Marian's glare made plenty of sense.

"I take it you saw Roland," Emma asked without preamble, numb fingers struggling with the buttons on her coat. Killian, seeing her trouble, demurred, his clever digits easily succeeding where hers had failed before peeling the now sodden coat from her.

"I did," Regina said, a soft smile on her face. "We had a lovely discussion about the state of his Mr. Panda." Emma raised an eyebrow, and the mayor shrugged. "He's recovering quite well from a recent trip to the stuffed animal hospital, apparently."

"Will wonders never cease?" Killian muttered under his breath, now trying to rub some warmth back into his Swan.

Regina's smile disappeared, her tone harsh as she glared at the man. "What was that, Mr. Jones?" she barked.

"Just wondering if you and the lad will be staying for dinner, Madam Mayor," he said brightly.

Regina glanced over her shoulder, clearly checking on Henry's progress before speaking. From the muffled thumps and complaints, packing was proving more difficult than he had expected.

"No. We were going to invite you to Granny's. Actually, that was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Jones. This is supposed to be one hell of a storm. You may want to seek… alternative accommodations, for the next few days," she said delicately.

"Worried for my safety, darling?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"Hardly. I just don't want tomorrow's headline to read, 'Cripple Drowns in Sound,'" she retorted. "Besides, you are a part of this," she gestured, indicating their little band. "And it would upset Henry," she added, as if that settled the matter.

Touched, Killian picked up her hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. "In that case I thank you for your concern, milady," he said gallantly. Emma rolled her eyes as she poured her own glass of wine. "I will just have to see if the Lady Swan will be willing to… accommodate me this evening," he murmured, eyes lingering on Emma's body before reaching her face.

Regina rolled her eyes, wiping her hand with a handkerchief before standing. "I'll leave that to the pair of you. See you at Granny's?"

Emma saluted the mayor with her wine glass. "We'll be right behind you. The pirate needs to pack. And apologize for kissing other women," she said darkly. Regina chuckled, wandering in to the bedroom to help Henry find the ever-elusive graphing calculator.

* * *

Hearing the muffled conversation between the mayor and her son, Killian abruptly took the wine glass from Emma's hand and set it on the table.

"Come on, darling. You can help me pack," he said, slowly crowding her down the narrow hallway. Emma sniffed, superbly disdainful as she turned her back on the pirate before stalking to his room.

Once she crossed the threshold, Killian shut the door, clicking the lock into place.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked, impassive.

"I'm apologizing, love," he murmured against her skin. Gently, he pressed her against the door, pinning her hands above her head as he bit at her neck, grinding his hips against her. He kissed her gently, mouth easing over hers. She didn't refuse him, but she didn't respond, either.

Killian knelt before her, hand trailing down her side before tugging at her jeans, his hook through a belt loop. Emma watched, unmoved. Seeing her stony expression, Jones opted to coax rather than demand. He lazily rubbed his scruff along the sensitive skin on her belly, something he knew was sure to send her nerves skittering.

"Darling, if you don't help, I'll be forced to rip these off. Just imagine how cold the walk to the diner would be!"

Emma crossed her arms, unamused. "I'd just steal a pair of yours," she snapped blithely.

"Oh I wouldn't recommend stealing from pirates, love," he said seriously, fingers working through her jeans. "_Terrible_ tempers with regard to that sort of thing. Though," he paused thoughtfully, "the image of you in leather…" he licked his lower lip unconsciously. "I could be persuaded to let you borrow them…"

Seeing her indifferent expression, he sighed. It appeared it was back to the original plan. "In the mean time," he trailed off to tug insistently, his hook scraping against the denim.

Emma rolled her eyes, but shimmied her pants down.

Killian let out a worshipful sound. "Oh _yes_, Swan," he breathed, taking in the red scrap of lace between her legs. "You are too kind, love."

Emma snorted. "Just what are you planning, pirate?"

"Told you," he ground out, roughly grabbing her leg and ducking under it, until she half straddled his shoulder. He nuzzled against her cloth-covered sex, already half drunk on her. "Apologizing."

* * *

Regina and Henry emerged, triumphant. The calculator had been found, and at last they were ready to brave the cold.

"Ready for Granny's?" the woman asked, smiling fondly as her son tugged on his heavy winter coat.

"You bet. Hey, I've got an idea!" he said, startled by a thought.

"What's that," Regina asked affectionately, bending over slightly to meet his eyes. Her heart twisted at the realization that she didn't have to bend down very far. Someday soon, her son would tower over her.

"We can watch the storm in the bottle," Henry said eagerly, oblivious to his mother's delicate sniffle.

"I think that's a great idea," Regina said warmly, squeezing him around the shoulders as she rallied. "Why don't you go grab it, and we'll be on our way. I'm sure they'll be along shortly."

Henry nodded, darting down the hall to grab the bottle off the mantle.

"'Bye Mom, Hook! We'll see you in a bit!" he yelled. Regina, hearing the stifled thump and curse from the bedroom, rolled her eyes. From the sounds of it, it would be a longer bit than Henry was expecting.

* * *

In a very distant corner of her mind, Emma registered that Henry and Regina had left the houseboat. The bulk of her focus was on the pirate kneeling between her legs, his tongue laving at the red lace barely covering her core. It was soaked, she knew, both from his ministrations and her own arousal.

Emma shivered as his hook ducked under the red lace, gently pulling it down her legs before tossing it aside.

Killian dragged his tongue up the seam of her sex, pulling a whimper from her. Slowly, he inserted a finger, pushing in deliberately until his ring rested just inside her sheathe, the tight ring of muscle clamping down on it. Emma choked, head falling heavily against the door.

"Oh yes love, make that sound for me again," he cajoled, his tongue now stabbing at her clit. She jerked her hips into his mouth, shuddering as he chuckled against her. Emma began to ride his finger, a moan welling up in her throat when the digit curled, pressing insistently on the sensitive tissue just inside her.

"Gods Emma, tell me what you want, love," he encouraged, drinking in the sight. Her hands twitched, white knuckled fists banging against the door before going flat as they scrabbled for purchase.

"Do you want to touch yourself, darling?" he rasped, tongue flicking against her bud. She gasped, hips tilting up to follow his tongue. Killian pressed them down gently, waiting for her response. After struggling against his hold, she tipped her chin in the tiniest of nods.

"Well, don't stand on _ceremony_, love," he purred. His mouth went dry as her hand drifted up to her shirt, pulling the fabric up so he could watch. Killian let out a muffled groan against her skin as her finger began to circle a fast-beading nipple, slowly teasing, twisting, and rolling it. Her breath came in shuddering pants as she whimpered his name.

Abruptly, Killian removed his finger, grinning at the soft whine of protest she made. Carefully, his hook trailed between her thighs, swirling over her swollen folds. Emma hissed as the cold metal met her hot, wet flesh.

"Do you like that, love?" he growled, a hungry grin playing on his mouth. She groaned as the hook began to circle her bud, pressing insistently.

"What was that, darling?" he asked innocently. "I just wanted to know if you liked my hook toying with you. You'll have to speak up," he taunted.

"Yes," she bit out, pressing her hips against the metal. Killian watched, fascinated, as she ground against his hook, pleasuring herself with it. He shifted until he was truly beneath her, tongue snaking out to thrust in to her twitching core. Her leg tightened over his shoulder, urging him closer. Smirking, his hand grabbed her ass roughly, fingers sweeping up and down the crevice as he steadied her. She was glorious, his Swan, her head banging against the door as his tongue fucked her sheathe, all while she gyrated against his hook, one hand now twisting her nipples roughly. The other was buried in his hair, nails scraping her scalp as she brought him tight against her, her voice playing hopscotch over the octaves as she chanted his name.

He groaned, biting on her flesh lightly, his stubble leaving red marks along her skin. She screamed, bucking her hips frantically against his mouth. Killian moaned as she came, her walls clamping around the tip of his tongue even as a fresh wave of wetness washed over it.

* * *

He rocked back to set her leg on the ground, his fingers trailing soothing patterns over her heated flesh as he rested his cheek on her hip, placing soft kissing against her trembling body.

"Hell of an apology, Jones," she murmured.

Jones smirked and placed lingering kiss on her clit, causing her to jerk against him, her legs buckling slightly.

"You never need doubt me, darling. It's only proper, being gentlemanly to the mayor and Mary Margaret and the rest of them, and I'll not be accused of poor form toward your family. But you are the only one… I want to kiss, Emma. To kiss like it _matters_," he breathed, running his nose over her slit.

He felt rather than heard her contented sigh as he trailed his lips over her, a simple, comforting caress. The silence stretched on, an easy habit of theirs. Her fingers were still buried in his dark locks, tracing the shape of his skull. Killian nearly purred at the delicate touch, so different from frantic grasp moments before. He murmured appreciatively as she tugged his head back suddenly, watching him with hooded eyes. Killian was quite sure he had never seen anything more erotic in his life than his post coital Swan, demanding his attention. _Gods, what a woman!_

"You've never said it, you know," she said evenly. Killian's eyebrow quirked at her.

"Neither have you, darling," he countered, laying another kiss on her opposite hip. She opened her mouth to reply, and he continued, talking over whatever explanation she might have. "But then I'm a man of action, Swan. And I do love a challenge," he said, blue eyes glinting deviously.

"Evidently," she muttered under her breath. He smiled, watching as the blush raced down her body as she recalled just what other actions he was prone to.

"I did warn you I would win your heart," he murmured, resting his forehead just beneath her bellybutton. "There was only ever one way this was going to turn out." Killian felt her tense beneath him, and his heart locked in his chest. His Swan was never one to talk about her feelings; how would she respond?

"I know," she whispered, her reply nearly inaudible over their heavy breathing. He stood slowly, a smile growing as his heart began to work properly again. He kissed her softly, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

"Good," he growled. "It's enough, that you know," he whispered. "For now." Emma shivered at the veiled promise in his words. She wrapped her arms around him, unable to stand without his support. She leaned into his chest, humming happily to herself. With anyone else, at any other time, those words would've sent her running as fast and as far as she could go. With him, though, it didn't seem so frightening. Smiling inwardly, her hands coasted down his sides to reach for his belt. She flinched when he pushed her away, ignoring her objections.

"But you-" she protested.

"I was the one that had to apologize, love. Besides," he paused to look at her appraisingly, "I can always collect later tonight. If you are willing to accommodate me," voice low and thick with innuendo.

Emma couldn't stop the silly grin from spreading across her face. She kissed him, arms twining around his neck as she pulled herself up his body, one leg hooking over his hip. "Gladly."

With a strangled groan, Jones kissed her harshly before stepping back, breathing heavily. "Later," he swore, eyes hungry as they drank in her half nude form. Emma nodded, and bent to retrieve her clothes. She saw the pirate hastily tuck flash of red into his vest pocket.

"And just what do you suppose you are doing?" she asked, glaring at him.

He had the gall to smirk at her. "Every pirate needs trophies, love."

* * *

Hopefully this buys me a bit of time before the next chapter. I'm still fiddling with a few things. Reviews are always appreciated :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Hello again! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Anywho, we are back on track with the plot! This was originally supposed to be part of the previous chapter, but in the interest of managable chapter lengths, I split 'em up. Does it work? Let me know!

Also, be warned, it's a bit of a mammoth chapter when compared to the others. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT

* * *

_**Ice & Shadow**_

**Chapter Seven**

The diner was packed, most of the town choosing an easy meal before the looming blizzard. A steady roar of conversations rolled over Killian and Emma as they dodged their way through the crowd, slowly making their way to the family booth.

At the register, Anton leaned on the counter, head bent close as he gossiped with Ruby.

"What on earth have you been up to, in that greenhouse of yours?" Ruby asked, her fingers drumming on the counter top.

"Oh you know, just working on a project," he replied, eyes gleeful as he rubbed his hands together.

"What project?" Ruby asked, twirling a lock of hair as she rang up his order.

"Oh I don't want to say. It's a surprise. I mean, it was a surprise to me, too, but I don't want to spoil it for anyone else," he burbled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Ruby raised an eyebrow. Anton looked over his shoulder, and leaned in.

"Well, okay, so you know I've been helping build the greenhouse, and I was moving things about and I found-"

"Here's your order. Pay up and get home before this thing get here," Granny snapped, dropping his takeout bag in front of him. Anton opened his mouth to argue, only to shut it when confronted by Granny's beady-eyed glare.

"Right. Thanks Granny, Ruby," he said, hurriedly dropping the crumpled bills on the table before hustling to the door. Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Was that really necessary? He was just getting to the good part!" she drawled, closing the cash register on Anton's bill.

"You can gossip on your own time. Half the town is here when they ought to be hunkered down. Get moving!" Granny snapped.

* * *

Down the line, The Impossible Bottle had been set on the counter, allowing the patrons to cluster around and watch the developing storm while they waited for their orders. Mr. Gold drifted over, watching townsfolk ooh and aaah in amusement. Then his brows lowered, nearly clicking into place.

"Excuse me," he muttered, shoving his way through the crowd to bend down, putting the ship on eye level.

Regina watched, curious. "Something the matter?" she drawled.

"Something's different here," Gold murmured, perplexed. He ran his hand above the bottle, and frowned when nothing happened. He repeated the gesture, a faint glow following before winking out. _This isn't how it's supposed to be. That's not the spell I cast…_

"What do you mean?" Regina asked, voice cutting through his thoughts.

"Does that look like the work of a twelve year old and an amputee?" he asked brusquely. Regina rolled her eyes, but bent down to examine it anyway. Gold watched as her eyebrows flew up when she saw it, the place where the spell ran awry. Regina tapped one perfectly manicured finger against the glass, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she half-cocked her head, listening for a sound those without magic couldn't hear.

"No…" she said, stymied. "It looks…"

"_Real_," Gold finished. He did not sound pleased.

* * *

Emma laughed as Jones dragged her out to the patio, navigating the giant mounds of snow hiding the furniture. "What are you up to?" she asked, tugging on his hand. Killian looked over his shoulder, smiling roguishly before giving her hand a squeeze.

"Thought I'd take you outside for a quick kiss, Swan. I've seen the women of this place mooning over those chicken flickers. I gather this is how a man woos his lady in your world," he said gravely.

"Chick flicks," Emma corrected, amusement dancing in her eyes. "So earlier doesn't count as wooing to you?" she asked coyly, cheeks flushed at the memory.

Killian shook his head, almost pityingly. "That was an _apology_, love. Wooing is very, very different. It's serious business, wooing, and bloody hard work to boot. And its something you have clearly suffered a sore lack of. I intend to rectify that. Immediately." Hearing her chuckle, he waved his hand at the setting. "So?" he asked, impatient.

She looked around; the patio looked like a winter wonderland, the lights glossy with ice and snow falling softly about them. "Yes, this is an acceptable form of wooing," she conceded. She gasped when he spun her about, pulling her back to his chest.

"My thoughts exactly. Especially as we'll probably be housebound for a few days, maybe even weeks," he murmured. He didn't seem at all upset by the fact, Emma noticed. She turned to him, winding her arms around his neck as she leaned against him, her nose just brushing his.

"What will we do with the time?" she asked, eyeing him flirtatiously.

"I daresay I can think of a few things," he murmured, bending his head to hers. Then he froze, eyes narrowing at something beyond her shoulder.

"Aren't you supposed to kiss me? That's generally part of the wooing," she teased. Jones sent her a quelling glance.

"Oh darling, I'll do more than that, but…" he trailed off, brow furrowed as his eyes fixed on the storm now gathered just off shore.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hand resting on his chest, her voice taking on a hard edge.

"That's not your average storm, Swan," Jones said, voice low.

Emma barked out a laugh. "Really? No kidding. That's why everyone's been stocking up, and why Granny's kicking everyone out in twenty minutes," she said playfully, relieved.

"No, I mean that storm doesn't belong," he snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Seeing her blank expression, he amended, "In your world, love. It doesn't belong in your _world_."

"It's a snow storm," Emma huffed, exasperated. She squeaked when he grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise and shook her just slightly.

"Swan, do us a favor, trust the man with three hundred years experience on the open seas. I've seen every kind of storm, sailed through them, and I'm telling you: _Something's not right with that storm_," he said, voice tight as his eyes darted over the clouds.

The bell tinkling behind them cut off Emma's blistering retort.

"Are you two coming back in?" Mary Margaret asked, poking her head out. "If not, you'd better pay up. Granny'll hunt you down otherwise, and she's a mean shot with a crossbow," she said, grinning impishly.

* * *

Killian stroked Emma's cheek, then brushed passed her, blue gaze on Mary Margaret. "We need to get everyone somewhere safe," he said flatly, marching into the diner.

"Are you sure you're not being an alarmist?" Emma snapped, following on his heels. Jones ignored her, beckoning instead to David and Regina.

"Take a close look, mates. Storms don't pause. They're not polite, neat little things, and they don't wait for a bloody invitation. That storm is waiting for something," he said, jabbing his finger at the window.

As one, they turned to look. It was as if the blizzard had collided with a great barrier. Tendrils of cloud were swirling and folding in on themselves, slowly building up to form an impossibly high wall of thunderheads. Emma swallowed hard, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. But just as Killian had said, it did not advance.

David stood on a chair and plunged his fingers into his mouth, whistling sharply. The voices died down as the crowd turned.

"Listen, everyone, we need to move you all to safety," he began. "We've reason to believe something isn't normal about the storm.

"It's just as a precaution," Regina chimed in. "But until we can be certain, all of you need to get somewhere safe."

"Gold, can you –" David called.

"The library would be best," Gold said easily. "I've already placed a few charms about. There's plenty of room," he said, fingers rubbing the gold handle of his cane thoughtfully.

Mary Margaret nodded. "Everyone needs to get to the library as fast as they can," she said decisively, already packing up Neal's baby bag.

"Don't worry about your personal belongings, Regina added, eyes now fixed on the clouds. "We can summon anything you might need."

"Leroy, set up shop at the circulation desk and start taking roll. Anyone you don't see, you call. And then you let one of us know" Mary Margaret said, voice firm.

"You got it, honey," the dwarf said stoutly, tipping his hat before hustling out the door.

"Ruby, Granny? Grab what blankets you can from upstairs. We can all carry over some supplies if we move fast," David asked. Granny nodded, already directing people to the kitchen for canned goods and the rooms one floor up.

Quickly, the townsfolk began to hustle across the street. The citizens of Storybrooke had an intimate understanding of what the Prince had meant by "not normal." No one wanted to test their luck.

* * *

Regina wiped her mouth, wincing at the acrid taste lying heavy on her tongue. Something pounded the door sharply, Emma's voice following a moment later.

"Regina, you in there?" she asked, voice strident.

Regina felt her stomach gurgle, and bent over the toilet, heaving once again. "I'll be right there!" she managed to gasp out.

"Hurry up. David wants you and me watching Main Street while he and Killian help Whale get the patients to the library." Regina heard the sharp click of Emma's boots fade away. She sighed, pressing her face onto the cool porcelain of the vanity.

She had just regained her sense of equilibrium when a terrible thought raced through her, causing her to stumble back on her heels.

_Robin. Robin wasn't at the diner._

Head pounding, she picked up her phone and stabbed at it angrily, fear and worry thrumming in her veins.

"Come on you idiot, pick up the phone, pick up the _goddamn phone_," she hissed. She almost threw it away when the annoyingly cool voicemail message came on. Still, she didn't mince words, panic erasing any lingering doubts or hurts.

"Something's happening in town, Robin. You all need to get to a safe place. Gold is setting up a protection spell on the library. Get here as quickly as you can. The storm isn't safe. If you can't get here before it hits, hunker down and stay safe. Do you hear me? _Dig in and stay_-" her voice died as the message beeped, cut off by some automated timer. Cursing, she shoved the phone in her purse and flung the door open.

* * *

The clouds marched steadily inland, the wind careening up the street, screaming as it came. Emma and Regina braced themselves, breath momentarily pressed from their lungs. Nearby, something twitched. Emma rounded on a drift, her body falling instinctively into a fighter's crouch while Regina summoned a light orb. Almost imperceptibly at first, the snow began to tremble, slowly building upon itself until a great, terrible form was rising before them. Across the street, three similar shapes were growing out of the snow banks. All were enormous, only vaguely humanoid in shape. Emma bit her cheek, forcing herself not to flinch as the one closest to them sprouted massive hands with bones of ice and muscles of snow. Two hollows that might have been eyes landed on her, apparently able to see her. A great maw of a mouth, a cavern of sharp ice shards as long as her hand, opened. The thing let out sound that was a cross between a howling gale and sea ice shattering.

"Golems," Regina breathed, eyes fixed on the things. Feeling Emma's questioning gaze, she continued, "Magical creations, typically tied to an elemental magic user. They have limited intelligence, but…"

Emma felt her gut twist as the mayor trailed off. "Strong?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Regina nodded. "Very. And totally obedient, to the point of their own destruction," she said softly. Emma felt the hair on the back of neck stand on end. The wind rose to a deafening shriek. Regina and Emma shielded their eyes from the stinging snow. And then, as suddenly as it had come, the wind died, giving way to an eerie, hazy silence. A woman, a lovely vision in blue, seemed to be floating out of the mist, deftly tugging off long gloves. The moment she was visible, Emma saw ice unfurling from her footsteps, the concrete cracking in a maze of fissures and breaks as she approached.

"I require Captain Hook," the woman said, imperious. "You will bring him to me, or suffer the consequences." Blue eyes narrowed. "It would not be wise to test my patience."

At that moment, Emma felt her hackles rise, any fear viciously crushed. Beside her, Regina chuckled, a dark, sardonic sound. The two exchanged a glance.

"Did she just say what I think she said?" the mayor pondered, a cruel edge in her voice.

"No manners at all," Emma drawled. Glancing over, she saw people frantically making a run for the library. One golem, seeing the movement, lurched forward.

"Oh no you don't, laddie," a voice cackled. A sound like a gong reverberated all around, making everyone wince. The creature reeled backwards, its body fast falling to pieces where it had slammed into Gold's barrier. Its partners, noticing its distress, began a lumbering run down the street, quickly gaining speed. The townspeople began to panic, racing for the safety of the library

"Regina –" Emma called, rolling her shoulders as she faced down the three creatures.

"You keep those things busy. I've got Little Miss Snowflake."

* * *

Regina and the woman circled each other, hands at the ready for a quick casting. The mayor was careful not to allow the newcomer a clear sightline down the street. Regina knew that without a sharp view of the golems, all but the most skilled magic user would be reduced to rudimentary control. She doubled back repeatedly, forcing the woman to mirror her while slowly pushing the woman away from the diner.

"So what brings you to Storybrooke," she asked, as if they were chatting over a glass of wine.

The woman glared, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. Regina felt something cold and terrifyingly strong grip her ankle. In one smooth movement, her hand lashed out, throwing the woman back against a building. Quickly, while the stranger was destracted, Regina began to raise a protection spell to reflect any future such attempts back to sender. She flinched, concentration lost, as sharp icicles began to hail down on her, biting in to her skin. She blinked, trying to clear her vision as the blood and sweat froze on her skin. Growling, she flung out her hand, once again forcing the woman back. She began to drive her away, slowly at first, her rage building until Regina had the stranger pinned against a wall. Blue eyes were wide in terror as the Evil Queen leaned in, brushing her nose against the pale ivory of the ice witch's cheek.

"Get the fuck out of my town, Snowflake," she hissed, the orb in her hand crackling with malice.

The woman glanced over Regina's shoulder, and smirked. Regina felt rather than saw the bolt of magic race away from the woman, its power swelling in the ground before bursting towards an unsuspecting victim.

She knew the voice that screamed. She had spoken with to the boy often enough, had tickled him to the point of helpless shrieks. She had read to him every night, and had walked him to school in the morning.

Regina didn't hesitate as she whirled from the witch, trying to force her body to move faster, to be stronger, to halt the gathering magic that rolled toward the boy like a tidal wave.

"Roland!" she shrieked.

* * *

_So easily distracted_, the woman mused, watching her formerly fierce adversary sprint up the street. It was all too easy for the ice witch to lift one delicate palm, a great chunk of ice lifting from the ground before hurtling toward the woman, smashing into her skull. The dark haired woman collapsed as if she were a marionette without strings. She did not move.

The ice witch strode toward her, a long blade growing from one pale, pale hand as she neared the throat of the prone form.

A whistling sound was the only warning the woman had before the arrow struck, shattering her blade. Another buried itself in the hem of her blue gown, quickly followed by another, and then another, sharp arrowheads marching up fabric toward her flesh.

"Milady, I must advice you to desist," a man called, stepping into the square. "This next one will pierce your heart. I'm afraid I don't often miss."

The woman glared, and then caught the movement behind the scruffy brigand. A woman and child were shuffling along in his shadow, slowly making their way to the safety of the impish one's protection spell. She smiled coldly, recognizing the dark haired woman from her mirror.

The witch raised her hands in surrender, and then jerked them sharply, a great barrier of ice cutting off the family's route to shelter. She heard the child scream in fear, and smiled grimly as the ragamuffin archer cast about, momentarily torn between his family and the motionless woman at her feet. Instead of finishing her adversary, however, the witch began to stalk up the road, the beginnings of a new plan swirling in her mind.

_That ought to keep them busy_, she thought. _Long enough for me to collect my prize, at least._

* * *

Emma rolled between the things legs. So far she had been able to destroy one, and blast one arm off another. The rest of it was proving problematic. Darting to the side, she let loose an orb of light. Her cry of triumph quickly turned to pain as the aftershock blew her back, her body slamming into a fire hydrant. She tumbled over, bracing for the impact of the unforgiving concrete. But it never came. Instead she was jerked backwards, a familiar hand squeezing her ass.

"Miss me love?"

"Killian," she gasped. At once a wave of relief and dread swamped her. "You need to get out of here, she's looking for you. Get behind the shield, she-" Emma said hastily, tripping over the words as she tried to block him from view while shoving him toward the alleyway.

"So this is the notorious Captain Hook." Emma cringed at the voice, whirling to place her body in front of him. She glared as the woman gave the pirate a very thorough once over, smiling indulgently. Killian watched, humorless.

"I wish to secure your services, Captain. You will come with me," the woman said, at once cajoling and haughty.

Jones snorted. "Not bloody likely."

Even across the square, Emma saw the pale blue eyes narrow. "You would dare to refuse me?" the woman hissed, seething.

"Dare? Milady, I _relish_ the opportunity," Jones retorted, grinning wolfishly. The woman flinched.

"Emma, go help Regina. There's still a few people at the diner," he muttered under his breath. Keeping his eyes on the woman, Killian drew his sword before giving her a gentle nudge. "'S alright, love. Go."

He felt her fingers brush his, a brief caress, but it was enough. Then she was gone, charging toward Regina and the remaining snow golem. Deliberately, he drew his cutlass, the weight of it across his palm a familiar, comforting sensation. Uneasily, the woman dropped her hand, a long blade of ice growing from it. Hefting it easily, Jones lifted his blade, a dark smile playing on his lips.

"En garde, princess," he taunted. The woman's beautiful face contorted in rage, and she flew at him, sword swiping at his throat.

* * *

"I hate to break it to you princess," he began, parrying her thrust easily.

"Queen!" she snarled, panting heavily as she struggled to land a hit on him. Even the ice on the ground failed to catch him, his footwork too quick and too sure to be caught napping.

"Oh, of course, as milady wishes," he said, giving her a mocking bow, "As I was saying, I hate to break it to you, _your majesty_, but I'm no pirate anymore. No ship," he hacked, "no crew," slashed, "and not for sale." He kicked her in the stomach and darted in, sword hovering just at her eyelashes. Seeing her hand twitch, he placed the hook at her throat, "or borrowing," he finished. "Now why don't you just take your monster, float back out to your little glacier and we'll let you be on your merry way," he hissed. The blue eyes, wide with fear, flickered, something like satisfaction blooming on her face.

"You may want to reconsider, Jones," the blond said, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. Killian tensed as she jerked her head, nodding to something behind him. Careful to keep his hook curved over the pale column of her throat, he risked a glance over his shoulder. What he saw sent his heart plummeting to his boots.

* * *

Emma was frozen in place, her hands and feet locked in a pillar of ice. On either side, two giant icicles inched closer to her throat, sharp tips gleaming wickedly in the watery sunlight. Her green eyes met his, fear barely contained. He heard her soft intake of breath as a razor sharp edge pressed against her skin, a red droplet trickling down her throat.

That hitch made his decision for him. "All right," he snapped. "I'll come quietly. Call off your beasties."

"Hook," Emma shouted, panicked. "Don't do it!" Killian steeled himself and turned toward her, walking swiftly. He forced himself to detach, to be unmoved by Emma's barely restrained terror. One look at her tested sorely tested his resolve. She was on the edge of hysterics, writhing and sobbing in rage and fear.

"Hurry up, Captain. I'm not a patient woman," the Queen snapped, pale fingers tapping.

"Killian, she's lying, don't do this, don't go," Emma babbled as he approached, her face white and frantic.

"I've got to, love," he said softly. He framed her face with his hand, the thumb running over her lip in a practiced gesture while his hook brushed back a lock of hair. "If I don't, she'll tear this place apart."

"No no no no no, Killian, no, don't go with her, don't leave me," she begged, anguish and panic flitting across her features. She thrashed against the ice, desperate to touch him. The icy blades at her throat trembled, warning her to be still.

Killian firmed her grip on her chin, and ran his lips over hers. He was gentle at first, trying to offer what scant comfort he could. Then the tenor changed as he hardened his lips, the kiss turning brutal as he poured all his want and despair, his need and love into the caress. He could taste her tears in their kiss. He could smell her blood on her throat.

"Find me," he rasped against her lips, nuzzling into her hair to breathe in her scent one last time.

"Always," she swore, eyes hard and mouth swollen. His lips, even trembling as they were, quirked into a half smile.

"That's my girl," he said softly.

* * *

"Enough!" The woman barked, her voice lashing at them like a whip. She waved a hand at her golem. The creature lurched forward to shove him roughly away. Emma renewed her struggles, green eyes venomous as she glowered at the frigid queen.

The woman noticed, and tapped her lips thoughtfully.

"Your woman doesn't seem to keen on the notion…" she paused, as if noticing the townsfolk tensed just beyond the barrier. Several of them had held tools or sporting equipment; whatever was close to hand and could deal some damage. "Well, perhaps another incentive is in order."

Her golem snaked a hand out, Emma dimly registering the screams of Robin and Marian as a dark-haired child struggled against the frozen paws. Marian darted forward and pummeled the thing with her fists, only to be batted away like a gnat.

"Insurance, for your good behavior," the woman called to the townsfolk, plainly pleased with herself.

Killian whirled on her, expression dark with hate. "You lying, traitorous bitch!" he snarled, whipping his sword out. The golem backhanded him across the road, his body crashing through the glass storefront of the flower shop. Killian's body was limp as the golem dragged it across broken glass, stumping back to his mistress as Roland screamed in its other hand.

The woman examined her nails. "I do believe we've made our point. Time to go," she said. A great gust of snow and wind whirled about them, and suddenly they were gone, the breeze careening lazily down the street toward the sound.

As the ice melted from her body, Emma felt her knees give beneath her, a scream welling in her throat as she buried her face in her hands.

* * *

Dun dun DUUUUUUN! *cue dramatic music and flickering lights!*

Well, the Ice Queen (hath) cometh! We're starting move along. Let me know what you think, (especially my fellow Elsa fans; this definitely has a darker tone than Frozen.) Reviews feed the muse!


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